The news

I read the news today and everything is wild.

It's like some gateless Watergate.

The past repeats itself because

It's better now than late.

Climate change or altered consciousness is the call.

A Navajo woman once told me her people just follow the climate

No matter where it leads them.

The Tao is all about being one with transformation too.

It's all a reality show when you think the show is all about reality.

All is in the eyes of pure awareness dreaming.

It only takes a thought to kill eternity.

Without a doubt, all is unborn and undying.

I am the light and you are my projection.

Let's not make it personal.

The loving holy spirit of intentional self-awareness is in your DNA.

The material is parasitical but awareness is self-aware.

Dreaming or deep sleep is just another call.

We are approaching that which is lost during translation.

Being, presence, self-awareness, love, life, universal consciousness, this

Simple knowledge of the great unknown.

rose the deconstructed sonnet

nonduality is love not thought

love is light not shadow

light is unknown not known

the unknown is nonduality not two

don't overthink being

don't make being into this great religion or some other thing

although it's true that being is the only way to know the light

one is always being despite what one thinks

you see the rose; you can't see the light

awareness has to be before being self-aware

as if god is pure awareness and the child of god is being

white black green

green blue yellow

red red red

The Great Blue Devotional Beyond

i.

To love awareness is self-awareness and self-awareness is

the apocalyptic revelation of awareness.

For being is the only love and being is the only knowledge

and being is the only universe of self-awareness.

Accordingly to love awareness is to know awareness

and to know awareness is to be awareness

and to be awareness is this self-awareness, love.

ii.

Listen, conditioning is the canvas

one is purchasing with deconstruction—

the dreaming is the painting is the art of self-awareness.

Buddha may have said it better in the sutras

but no one reads them for the stories anymore.

Yesterday I heard the red-winged blackbirds first

and then I saw them saying soon I’ll hear the peepers in the wetlands—

being being being

iii.

Of all the space-time

in all being

in Awareness,

she walks into mine—

open eyes of an infant,

fantasies of seven billion people,

deep sleep of the light fantastic.

To reiterate, an early morning pond,

Blue Ridge Mountains

and a country love song.

Another Saturday Night Fantasia

Go further like Arjuna. Let further go always undefined. Like dreamtime hiking in the whites.

Attachment to love is the root of all addiction. The only knowledge is in knowing the unknown. Listen, karma is like DNA on steroids.

Self-inquiry is a risky business. Sleep just wants to sleep. But never underestimate a two-year-old entangled in a why.

Flunk like a monk. Shakespeare is for monkeys. As you shed beliefs, never gather new ones.

Self-inquiry is like climbing the original face but much more realistic. Self-awareness makes an appearance. Just like orange sunshine.

Innocent awareness. Red orange yellow green blue indigo and violet. There’s 16.8 million colors and counting.

Death assumes birth but never assume. Death is just another concept. I only know I am.

The Tao appears as caterpillar or the butterfly. Science is or isn’t. Chrysalis and further.

Act one’s truth. They say that lucid dreaming is for losers. But losing is conditioned dreaming.

Self-awareness is the only risk worth taking. And every risk is furthering self-awareness. But the risk is never remembered.

Everything leads to a precipice. To be or of the world. So let’s talk about the world.

First is this conditioning. Next is revolution like original transformation. Three is magic.

Despite it all, I am conditioned to be a slice of self-awareness.

Awareness is the one true god and self-awareness is the child of god. Amen.

Suddenly wind and rain.

A Slice of Late Winter Sunset

Alien trees of space-time—

Painted skies of consciousness—

Far beyond anything in memory—

Like the taste of wood and firewater—

Sunset over the native northern woodland beings—

Time is a slice of self-awareness.

Awareness aware of awareness is spontaneous and indivisible—

Still, we call this self-awareness—

Self-awareness is true mindfulness—

True mindfulness is deconstructing mind—

No mind is pure awareness—

Night sky, no mountain.

To a Star Child

The baby pure awareness of a little baby's eyes attending to

the filtered light within this great cross-section of eternal self-awareness.

For in-between awareness and this self-awareness

appears to be a space-time universe, o star child!

But you must close your eyes, my dearest one,

and be this mirror in which you see your self.

Don't let division keep you up at night. One is not divisible by zero.

All belief is absolutely unbelievable.

When I'm lost, I return to this I am—I'm always here.

There’s always seems to be a red rubber ball in these stories.

Monkey see. Monkey do. Monkey sees through monkey too.

Light is the only knowledge and the only knowledge is the emperor of ice cream.

A Passage from the Diary of This and That

Bogo. Cry baby cry. The fire in the black hole.

Sausalito and goats. Is it live or Memorex? Karma made me do it.

It takes no time to smile but yesterday to frown. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?

Deeconstruct the movie and use the film to dream a more realistic one. Die and repeat. Further is like death by ten thousand cuts.

On the other hand, absolute dreaming is direct path with scenery. The first thing to know in being reborn is that perennial knowledge I was never born. And lucid dreaming never dies; it just fades away.

The body-mind is grown in consciousness. Let this be your meta-paradigm.

I am indeed.

In other words, I am indeed.

Self-awareness is this direct Eastern knowledge that I am that; in the west, it appears as an evolutionary and reflexive space-time universe.

Eye test. Read the big letter at the top.

Krishna and his blue man group.

We were talking about the fact that yesterday never knows; there is no did in my way.

Like hearing "white bird in a golden cage alone" New Year's Eve Boston 1971 with lonesome Sherry after quitting college that very same month.

Like a full moon many moons ago rising next door over Tanglewood "it's a marvelous night for a moondance."

Like Quicksilver Messenger Service during a very bad trip.

Buy one get one redux.

An echo of hitoribotchi no yoru.

It was my generation's job to deconstruct Eisenhower's military-industrial complex. Good god y'all. Then, whatever.

Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. Those who am, be. You're welcome.

I was literally turned away at the border and had to learn to live with it. Imagine it.

Signed just another message in a bottle. Let me know if someone gets it. Thank you!

.

The City on the Hill of Synchronicity

Synchronicity is always happening.

What isn't synchronicity is illusion.

Synchronicity is not of this continuum.

Synchronicity isn't seasonal but a rose is

synchronicity synchronicity synchronicity.

Winter is annual but each snowflake is perennial.

Synchronicity is neither one nor zero—

in such binary totality, it's more like three.

When synchronicity is happening, Let It Be.

Follow oneself joyously in the evolutionary

synchronicity of thou and three.

In other words, enlightening intent appears

as synchronicity in this space-time continuum.

Between love and wisdom, synchronicity.

Between the highest peak and deepest sea,

synchronicity.

Between non-duality, synchronicity.

But synchronicity is never in-between.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall is synchronicity.

Jesus, every single baby is the sign of synchronicity.

Being before the naming is synchronicity.

And deconstructing mega-paradigms is synchronicity,                        .

for the child is the mother of synchronicity.

Synchronicity is always happening somewhere in a dream near you.

When you're sleeping, synchronicity sings the blues.

When awake synchronicity is wow.

Synchronicity is not a scientific theory. It's a fact.

The immaculate synchronicity.

Synchronicity is sometimes named Tom Brady.

Dreaming nirvana begins with the smallest synchronicity called kensho.

Lucid dreaming is the greatest art of synchronicity.

As understanding approaches the speed of manifestation,

synchronicity will happen.

Synchronicity is never a lost art.

One play at a time is synchronicity.

Cherry blossoms, Fourth of July, Autumn leaves, absolution.

201702051411

Deconstruct belief

and make no new belief.

Being is the true faith.

All dreaming selects its causes

from the causeless

for its special effects.

Only lucid dreaming doesn't believe them.

The rough gods go moving

through the constellations

of our stories

while the moon turns

on and off as

love and wisdom.

stream of consciousness thru current conditions

Between pure awareness and self-awareness falls the shadow. This silhouette of dreams cast from my original face. And the gibbous is a necessary phase between the new moon and the full moon.

Everyone gets lost in the material for all intent and purposes. That between pure awareness and self-awareness is called the fall of man. And appearances in consciousness are closer than a mirror.

First word, best word, as if as if every word is my last word and testament. Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny western scientific materialism of the night? Between pure awareness & self-awareness appears a universe to what’s between—but just spontaneous combustion to a dweller on the threshold.

He who dies with the most toys dies by the most toys—but she who dies before she dies never dies The seven degrees of separation between pure awareness and self-awareness: light, nuclear, atomic, molecular, vegetable, animal, enlightenment. And babies are born as light—to be conditioned otherwise—in order to be enlightened—to that nameless absolute self unborn.

O let this between awareness and self-awareness be! In a col between two peaks, there is a secret pond named paradise. The locals call it hell. And one time while hiking between Penobscot and Sargent mountains in Acadia on Mount Desert Island, I came upon a family swimming au naturel.

“Sargent Mountain Pond in Acadia likely Maine’s first lake: Acadia National Park, Maine — Ask someone to name the first lake to appear in Maine thousands of years ago and you’d likely get answers like Moosehead or Sebago. Few would guess the answer is very likely Sargent Mountain Pond.” O let this between awareness and self-awareness see! As death is this salt that slowly awakens the wisdom taste of oneself—love, forgiveness, and compassion is the pepper.

But swamps will grow in the places where the flow is interrupted. Such names are marshland, quagmire, muskeg, peat bog, mire, morass, slough, holm, or everglade. O let this between awareness and self-awareness three!

And the light descended into cobalt nightmares of material heartache. Meanwhile ten thousand kensho rises on the planet of enlightenment each day. O let this dreaming between that unknown awareness and this knowing self-awareness be!

Deconstructing thought police. The wind is crying holy Mary mother of god. Between pure awareness and self-awareness is that unknown being—and this is the only knowledge known to all.

So the river is like this sky-dancing teacher. And when it’s a tidal river, it’s like a waltz. Like nautical waters who calls one a river.

And every day is as different as a tidal river flowing to the open sea. And in variety is one. E pluribus unum for real Walt Whitman. Read my Moby Dick.

Just five syllables. After make it seven more. Ends in further five.

That pure awareness. Spontaneous self-awareness. Bubbles of belief.

The speed of light is the speed of self-awareness. Go as slow as it takes.

O drop body-mind. Consciousness is one and all. Experiential. Imagine not knowing who, what, when, where, or why. Between deep sleep and dreaming appears the question.

Who am I? Thus speaks deconstruction. But always remember. Being is silent.

It is said all energy arises within the gnawing of this being. i am i am i am.

open says me